There are some words in the English language which do not have definite defined meanings. We normally tend to assume that when we use a word it will have the same meaning for everyone else who uses it. In many cases this is not true. People use words and give them nuances of meaning which may vary to fit in with their own life experiences. The only words that are consistently interpreted in the same way are those that operate within the discourse of logic or in scientific and technical descriptions.
One word that we use frequently, but needs constantly to be defined according to its context, is the word morale. It is a word that can be used to convey the mood, positive or negative, in an organisation. To say that there is low morale in an army unit, a firm or a church congregation is to hint at any number of a cluster of negative factors that can befall an organisation and affect its functioning. Anyone in charge of such a group will need to take quick action. Otherwise, the work of this organisation can become increasingly enfeebled. A general going into battle knows that it is important for his men to have good morale and feel positively about the support network that they depend on. They also need to understand the cause for which they are fighting. Small things in an army will make an enormous difference. A plentiful supply of hot sweet tea was essential to the fighting spirit of the troops in WWII. This and an occasional glimpse of their commanders and generals. It allowed the soldiers to realise that senior officers and generals were not just names and remote figures away from the action. Tea and rousing pep-talks were the sort of things that made a big difference to the general feeling we describe as morale. Good morale is an essential part of organisational effectiveness and will be a priority of any good leadership.
It is not just in the fighting forces that we need to find good morale so that difficult tasks can be done well. Rather, good morale is something we need to find in a factory, a school and in the various structures of the Church. It is hard to describe precisely what we are talking about in each of these settings. It is probably easier to describe morale by noticing what happens when it is absent. We know from experience the lassitude and the low energy levels that are felt when morale is missing in a congregation, a diocese or a school. We can clearly see this is opposite to good morale. It is all that is summed up in the word, demoralisation. When morale is high, people’s body language clearly demonstrates the sense of hope, excitement and a feeling of direction that has flooded into their institution. People are being led somewhere and they have a renewed sense of energy and purpose. We need to think further and ask ourselves what good or, alternatively, absent morale in a church might feel like.
Morale, or the lack of it, is both a corporate and individual experience. In the Church many clergy suffer individually from a problem of low morale. One cause of low morale may arise from the sheer difficulty of doing a particular job well. The parish may be too large, with occasional offices taking up 80% of the priest’s time. It may be that you have inherited a historic division within the parish between individuals and families, stretching back decades. A common problem today is also the lack of volunteers to allow the structural aspects of the parish to function well. These are the kinds of problems that are difficult to resolve, whether by an incumbent, or anyone else who might come in from outside in an attempt to help. A bishop or an archdeacon might have little help to offer in mediating in ancient disputes or finding someone to act as church treasurer.
Although outside support may have little to offer in resolving some local problems within a parish, the support of senior staff in the diocese can do a great deal to help raise morale among the parish clergy. In the past, when I was parish priest, I normally only saw the bishop when he came to do a confirmation. The words of the Institution service which speak of the sharing of ministry between bishop and incumbent had little practical meaning. There was little sign of episcopal interest in anything that I got up to. In later years, from around 1995, there was an annual appraisal with a member of the diocesan senior staff, but I only remember two or three such meetings. Would a detailed knowledge of my parish have made any difference? It is hard to answer that question as it was never on offer. I can see that if there had been any serious problems, it would have been useful to have had a pastorally sensitive figure with experience who knew overall what was going on. The real problem was one I raised in my last blog post -the fear of having a negative issue being recorded in the clergy ‘blue file’. A pastor, not an assessor was what might have been required at various stages in my ministry. Because it was never on offer, I cannot ever have been said to have missed it. I believe it would have done something to lift the spirits if there had really been someone of experience, compassion, and concern, potentially interested in the detail of my parochial successes and failures.
The morale of the parish clergy, I believe, would be boosted if there were effective oversight which did not come with any threat of disciplinary action built in. In my 40 years of parish ministry, I only remember one meeting with a bishop which had solely pastoral content. The occasion was when I was planning to move on from my second curacy to return to university to do two years theological research. It was an important moment for me to see that the bishop fully understood my reasons for pursuing this idea. I needed to know that the system would not reject me in the future for having the temerity to become a full-time student again.
I mention my own personal experience (or lack thereof) of encounter with bishops as a way of suggesting that it is important for working clergy to feel that someone knows something of what is going on in their lives. It does not have to be any detailed knowledge. This pastoral oversight might be hoped for by everyone working in parishes, but it is especially true for the stipendiary staff who may have no other source of professional backing. It may of course exist in the current Church, but such help was not available twenty+ years ago. If and when things go wrong in a parish, it is of enormous help if the person you speak to knows something of the context of each ministry. It matters to feel that the ministry of each parish is something that the bishop shares with the parish priest. I forget the exact words that occur in the Institution service, but they go something along the lines of ‘take this ministry which is mine and yours’. If that sharing of ministry is slightly a reality, then each parish priest will have a solid sense of being supported. That will be the cause of a real boost to his or her morale.
The current events within the London diocese, relating to the Griffin affair, must be doing a great deal to undermine the morale of the diocesan clergy. From the fragments of information that have been revealed, it is evident that when senior staff met, they did not always take care to ensure that only factual information about the clergy was shared. Gossip and rumours about clergy were apparently given space at some of these meetings. Even if nothing was done with such information, allowing gossip ever to enter written records is hardly indicative of a caring, supportive relationship between senior staff and parish clergy. Clearly there are bound to be unique stresses and strains within the London diocese, not least because of the polarity of the church traditions represented there. The contrasting theological perspectives in one fairly compact diocese must create its own set of problems. Institutional morale must be hard to maintain in these circumstances. The coroner’s report by Mary Hassall was pointing to serious problems in the provision of pastoral care for the clergy. Any such deficit of care and sloppiness in the keeping of records will severely dent morale and will take time and effort to repair. Trust has been damaged and this needs to be a major issue of concern for the senior staff in the diocese of London and beyond.
The analogy of making sure that an army going into battle have good morale, is a good one to describe what is needed for all ‘front-line’ clergy working in the parishes. Feeling known as well as actively supported by their officers and generals is of vital importance both for soldiers and clergy to enable them to function well. In addition, they need to feel that the actual situations they face daily are really understood. Also, when statements from on high are uttered which do not connect to experience, that will likely undermine the sense of belonging to the institution. Trust, listening, active support and proper communication are all part of the process that is needed to bind clergy and bishops to one another and to the institution they serve. When these are in evidence, morale will be high and the task of extending the Kingdom will be furthered and enhanced.
So very sad to read of the lack of pastoral care during your long ministry. Frankly I am shocked. A hard working and caring minister needs support as they are in a lonely position with the care of many in their hands and hear so much which is confidential. How can anyone ask for help and support within such a system, especially with the fear of what may be recorded in their files? I thought this was one of the prime tasks of Bishops, to know and support their clergy. And how can Bishops make any plans or decisions for their diocese when they lack the essential knowledge of what is going on and how people will be affected by their decisions? Reading this we can only be deeply concerned for our clergy. When I think of the colossal amount of hours our diocese spends on committee meetings and the money it spends on vision and strategy surely time could and should be made for this priority. I have heard from unhappy clergy in my diocese who feel a distinct lack of any care and quite a number have left. Sad to think they may not receive any even if they move on. I can only think there must be numbers of quietly desperate clergy ignored by those who should know better. It is heart breaking to read of cases where clergy have seriously contemplated suicide or have taken their lives whilst Bishops ceaselessly pontificate on society’s problems. They behave like ostriches within the church institution but seem eager for media coverage when they set the world to rights. Their time would be better spent on the problems which then can, and are paid to do something about, before they tell others what they should be doing.
I once asked an Archdeacon how many of the clergy he was in touch with had good morale. He replied about half. I said does that mean that the rest had low morale. He said yes. I was hoping that since I left the C of E to work in Scotland nearly twenty years ago someone was was going to say that the pastoral care of working clergy is now fine. One use for us mentally active retireds is to organise us to mentor other clergy. That does seem to happen in some places. Others of us who are unknown in the diocese they live in, because they have never held a post there, easily become invisible. Suggestions for raising the morale of clergy, active and retired would be a useful discussion. This blog and the interactions it provokes certainly keeps my morale at a reasonable level.
If I may put in a plea about other ranks’ morale, Readers’ morale can be very low, too. There was a couple of surveys done about this. I know about the prodigious amount of work done on at least one. The Bishop’s Council “noted” it, and it died. All for nothing. It had been done originally because some people had noticed a morale problem. No one cared.
I can think of three occasions during my ministry when it became clear that my superiors didn’t even have basic information about what my job entailed.
The first was when I was a Higher Education chaplain and reporting directly to the diocesan. He retired and the incoming bishop made me responsible instead to a suffragan, who erroneously told a new vicar that I worked part time in his parish. The vicar proceeded to treat me as a curate he could order around. I stuck to my job. There was a lot of bad will which persisted even after the suffragan found my appointment letter which made it clear the chaplaincy job was full time.
The second time, also as a chaplain, was when a bishop addressing all the HE chaplains in the diocese at a June meeting said he’d wanted to catch us ‘before you all disappear for the summer’. He clearly didn’t realise that chaplains stick around to exercise their ministry among staff, researchers, overseas students, and postgraduate students.
The third time was when I’d been at a parish for a couple of years and had a meeting with the bishop and rural dean. We were evidently at cross purposes, and it transpired that neither of them had bothered to look at my parish boundaries – I was responsible for an estate of several thousand people they weren’t taking into account.
That kind of thing gives clergy no confidence in those who are making decisions about them and their work.
On the other hand, when I had a very challenging parish in Chester Diocese, in which criminals were trying to force me out of the vicarage and parish, I got really excellent support from the suffragan and archdeacon. I was and am very grateful for that. It can work, sometimes.
And then there was the Diocesan who politely asked our team vicar if there was any particular reason for his being so tired. There was a vacancy for team rector, and he was also hospital chaplain.
Things that have weakened my morale as incumbent:
(1) being lectured by diocesan advisers about what I should be doing without those advisers taking any interest in the circumstances of the parishes.
(2) “exciting” diocesan posts being created without explanation of how they could help me (they didn’t); merely more people in diocesan offices thinking up jobs to justify their existence that they could dump on the likes of me.
(3) being manipulated to feel that it was my job to solve problems resulting from past mistakes and ego projects.
(4) being treated as a diocesan “rent” collector.
(5) emailing bishops and getting a reply from a PA/secretary perhaps 10 days later.
(6) feeling that hierarchs have forgotten (or never knew) that expectations of diocese, parishioners and oneself are incompatible.
(7) being traduced by members of a diocesan team.
(8) being powerless to change things that affected me (as a result of such as synodical impotence, influence of caucuses, etc).
(9) being treated as stupid: the dissonance between smiley upbeat public statements and day-to-day reality.
(10) dissonance between institutional behaviour and the message it purports to preach.
(11) feeling that the whole enterprise is run for the sole benefit of hierarchs and civil servants.
(12) I can see that the threat of having things recorded in the blue filer would be a real downer for the many clergy whose housing and finances are entirely dependent on the church.
Things that have strengthened my morale as an incumbent:
(1) birthday cards signed by the diocesan, even in retirement – yes I know it may be trivial but it feels good.
(2) practical and considerate care in a family catastrophe.
(3) being trusted to get on with the job.
(4) seeing hard decisions being effected, eg some paid diocesan posts scrapped.
(5) seeing that essential diocesan posts, eg safeguarding, estates, maintenance, are filled by competent people with their feet on the ground.
(6) emailing bishops and getting (often) a same-day reply, sometimes from the bishops themselves.
(7) the occasional admission that “we got it wrong” (even if never public).
(8) liturgy, preaching, teaching, ministering.
(9) parishioners (well, most of them).
I dare say I’d better stop. Small, personal things make a big difference. Being heard by the boss is even better.
If anyone hasn’t heard of Eugene Peterson’s tale of his early reports to his supervisors and their lack of interest in his ministerial work and reports as a pastor you must read this.
https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/kevin-deyoung/do-you-read-your-reports/
Thanks Leslie, I love it!
It has to be said, though, that the hierarchy’s lack of attention can sometimes be used to our advantage.
I used to hold a monthly special worship service for students, with experimental liturgy. This of course was in violation of my vows to ‘use only those services authorised by canon’ and of obedience to the bishop. I got round it by submitting an annual report to the bishop describing the services. Since he didn’t intervene to tell me I had to use authorised liturgies , I reckoned I had his permission.
Eventually canon law was changed to allow use of different liturgies at special services. I made full use of it when I moved to a parish, and we had a lot special services!
I wonder how many are sticking to Canon law about common cups just now – and what the future might be. Ignoring laws can be useful but really laws or statutes or guidance need to be officially adapted or else we become hypocrites.
It seems to me that morale is closely linked to trust. If you don’t trust the organisation and/or the high ups, it is hard to have good morale. There is a growing sense of distrust in parishes and their clergy with bishops and senior staff and with the CofE organisation as a whole.
This distrust is being caused by many things:
* There have been a stream of new initiatives being introduced which parishes and clergy are pressured to adopt and which have not been the ‘game-changers’ that they were proclaimed to be.
* An awareness that bishops have very little concern for what’s going on in the parishes as long as parish share is being paid
* The utter failure of the CDM, especially the way it has been twisted and misused by bishops
* The way that new diocesan posts are proliferating but nothing is being done to help parishes with the increasing pressures of administration (esp. treasurers and Safe Church coordinators) within a declining pool of people able and willing to do the jobs.
* The steady drip of news of historic (and not so historic) failures of the CofE in regards to such matters as John Smyth, Jeremy Fletcher, etc etc
One of the most basic problems in the CofE at the present time is a collapse in trust. Until bishops and senior staff understand this and actively work to restore trust, things are just going to worse. Trust can never be presumed or taken for granted; it always has to be earned. As I suspect we all know from our own experiences, once trust is lost all actions and words (even well-meaning) are treated with intense suspicion, like an unexploded hand grenade. And trust once lost is very hard to restore – it takes a long time and a damn sight more than nice sounding words.
Morale among parish clergy will not improve until bishops act to restore trust.
Yet there is perhaps an even more existential problem which undermines morale and subverts trust.
People presumably took orders in the belief that they would help to advance God’s kingdom, and to show people the Way. They believe that they are able to control the narrative because God has ‘called’ them.
And, whilst some do follow that Way, the evidence is overwhelming: that fewer and fewer people do so each year, and that those who are left are mostly elderly.
Granted that the hierarchy have committed numerous blunders in recent years, frustration amongst the rank and file with their overlords often has much to do with a failure to comprehend why everything continues to decline almost without interruption. If it cannot be due to the failings of the clergy themselves (though often it can), then it must be due to the ecclesiastical system. Yet that system commits many of these blunders as a function of its own flailing around, and bewilderment at the decline. It’s hard to understand why so many disbelieve in something which, to clergy and hierarchs alike, seems self-evidently true.
Perhaps much of the frustration is also borne of the fact that clergy don’t have the control they believed themselves to have when they took orders. That they invariably can’t make a difference (and how can they, really, when they are mere specks of sand upon the shore?). Or that the remorseless decline of the Church and of Christian belief and witness is due to vast, and often impersonal, forces over which they have negligible suasion. That they – clergy and hierarchs alike – are just so many corks bobbing atop the sea of events.
It seems to me that two kinds of person take orders: (i) those who have the confidence and the means to do so in their 20s, when – like so many youths – they believe they can ‘make a difference’; and (ii) those who defer ordination until they can afford it, but have in the meantime have suspended their youthful ambitions. Both categories evince youthful ambition – it’s just that the second category has put it into cold storage for awhile. Part of growing up is perhaps realising that the ability of any one individual to ‘make a difference’ is usually non-existent, or else rare and incidental.
Once some clergy realise this, the new wine can turn to so much gall. I therefore suspect that poor morale is often due to a growing realisation of this, and perhaps also regret for roads not taken. It is often easier to blame the flawed ‘system’ or the inept/malign bosses, than to take a long, hard look at what might be the wider reality. It is hard to come to terms with the possibility that it might all have been for not very much, or for not nearly as much as was hoped at the outset.
Apologies for putting it like this! As a lay Christian I sometimes struggle to remain confident in the face of this great decline, and pray for a transformation.
Froghole, just a very quick off the top response. Honestly, I really think one small person can make a difference. Maybe only a small one. But we don’t have to save the world, that’s already been done.
That is probably right, English Athena. Thank you. Lots of us can make a difference, often in small ways, and I feel that my remarks are maladroit, and I am certainly not intending to belittle the superb work that many ministers do.
However, it must be very hard, working as a minister, knowing that every year the numbers are – almost everywhere – going down and down, when your world view is predicated on God working His purpose out in the world. If He is indeed working His purpose out in the world, He does not appear to be presently doing so to the advantage of most of His churches in this country, never mind Europe, Australasia and (increasingly) North America. I cannot presume to know as God knows, but I do know of clergy who have had breakdowns or who have left active ministry (or have, sadly, lost faith altogether) because the evolving reality seems so at odds with the hope which animates the Christian message.
That seems right. But we support each other!
I think you’re right English Athena – one person makes a lot of difference.
As to decline in numbers – as David said, the lack of trust is the overarching problem. It’s not just historic and current abuse but the fact that the c of e STILL blames victims for coming forward and treats us appallingly, drags its feet and LIES and it’s the lies that people can’t stomach .
There’s also the fact that the c of e is now totally out of step with equality law around lgbtq rights and freedoms, until very recently with women (no other uk workplace would get away with this mutual flourishing nonsense), and has been shown very clearly to harbour a lot of racism.
This is a travesty of justice, and really out of step with uk society overall. The c of e is, sadly, the least safe place in my life.
However I don’t think that humans are losing their urge to seek God at all.
About 9/10 people globally profess a faith / religion. And in the west, hundreds of thousands of people are walking pilgrimages, and visiting places like taizé and visiting online church.
Theres a real disconnect going on between these seekers, and what they find in the church.
Not many are likely to kow tow to the holy robes any more, and think that clergy are above everyone else and never to be questioned. (Stephen’s pieces on clericalism and narcissism are fantastic).
Can the church change its culture?
Because that’s what it needs. I don’t mean image – beanies and cool trainers and electric guitars are fine for some, and others still appreciate BCP. But I mean in terms of a cultural shift from the rigid expectation of total deference to clergy towards genuine empowerment of the laity – cos like it or not we’re all equal in the sight of God – and truthful, honest, humble, authentic leadership. That is what people now respond to. The institutional church in this country has broken its contract with her people – by lying about abuse, lying about the abused, and lying about the lying.
We need far more than empty platitudes and lessons learned- we need true repentance.
Because apologies without concrete action is just manipulation.
Let’s see true godly sorrow for what the church has done and a sea change in the way it relates to people
(Obviously #notallpriests! But the damage done by the abuse of power needs a real reckoning because it stinks to high heaven).
So much wisdom, Froghole! Thank you.
I took orders because I wanted to do for others what the church had done for me, namely awaken them to the delight of the world and of human creativity – the church as nurturer of human potential and as patron of the arts.
I wanted to do this as a teenager, when the church was doing it for me. I felt unable to follow this path at that time as a result of what I perceived as parental expectations. When I eventually presented myself to the church I could see no alternative – I was at the end of a road and had I been turned down by the church I shudder to think what might have transpired In my study of theology I came to see how the church could also be an intellectual liberator if only it would let go of the need to control and think more imaginatively about the human condition – as I think much of Hebrew scripture does. I have done my best as an ordained minister to alert those in my care to all this potential for bringing life abundant.
I have been far too idealistic. The church wants drones. And yet I think people appreciate having horizons widened – “enlargissez Dieu” (Diderot), and their imaginations tickled – “hatred is failure of imagination” (Graham Greene). I have seen my job as showing them the lark ascending.
My vision of the church as enabler of life abundant is hopelessly unrealistic these days – because of the power of the dark side of human ego – and I suffer like everyone else. But I cling to this hope and do my best. This for me is what the Ascension is all about.
Beautifully said.
It never occurred to me during my forty years of active ministry that the ‘cure of souls’ would in any way be shared between me and my bishop. I never expected particular pastoral care from the ‘shepherds to the shepherds’ so frankly did not miss it. One archdeacon in particular showed real pastoral concern and support when I was undergoing major health concerns, and that was reciprocated. I was quite fond of one of my bishops and touched when he called on me unannounced during my convalescence. The most memorable episcopal intervention was when the then Bishop of Peterborough took the trouble to ring a young curate looking for his first incumbency to advise that his diocese being full of hunting, shooting and fishing squires and gentry a match with a dogged urban socialist was going to be improbable. But this was an act of old-school kindness. Maybe I was always able to accept that in reality I was always going to be ‘on my own’ in ministry. I identify very strongly with Stephen’s experience above. My job was to get on with it, keep my head down and as far as possible avoid troubles. Biennial ‘ministry reviews’ were meaningless because Chelmsford never kept records of what you’d said 2 years ago. So yes, it’s very lonely. You shoulder your challenges and despairs as best you can, consult a psychotherapist if you can afford it if your mental health goes under, and that goes with the territory. Although I was called into the church because I wanted to be a pastor-priest, I did not believe I was joining a particularly pastoral institution. And so it has proved. It is part of the growing-up process. A bit like a marriage ‘for better or worse’ with one aspect being decidedly’worse’.
Does your having low expectations make it right? Or would you like to see change?